Strong Hearts
by noa748
Summary: From Aselia to Earth, Earth to Rieze Maxia. I just can't catch a break. But hey, at least we managed to kill Mithos, right?
1. Mithos

**A/N: Oh yeah, it's another one of my crazy plot bunnies. I just finished playing Milla's and most of Jude's path in Xillia, so I guess this was basically inevitable. I figured I'd post it since the Xillia archive has barely any stories, so I'll add to the count. XD**_  
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**So! This takes place after NR because for some reason I have an addiction to writing unofficial ****sequels before I even finish the main fic. Well, I hope you guys enjoy it! I'll try to update my other stuff soon, I'm just juggling two jobs and school so it's been a pain.**

**Also, just a heads up - don't expect regular updates with this. I'm just doing it for kicks because I'm in love with the scenario, so I'm going to be prioritizing NR and my other stuff first, haha. Anyway, HAVE FUN.**

* * *

It was snowing.

The flakes drifted down from the grey sky overhead and he observed them impassively, noting with a vague sense of discomfort that he was also laying on a bed of snow. He didn't remember arriving here, but he couldn't have been here for long as there was only a thin dusting on his chest.

_Martel._

The boy let out a slow sigh. He raised one hand to the sky, staring at it. He was whole.

The hand lowered to his body. Wetness on his stomach, cuts on his arms, a dull, numb feeling coming from his left thigh. Yes, that was right. He remembered Lloyd's sword going completely through. He didn't feel pain the way normal people did, but the dull sensation alone told him that the situation had to be serious.

_Martel._

Why did he care? His dream, the dream she had inspired in him…it was dead. She was gone. Four thousand years, wasted. His entire existence was meaningless. The suffering, the sacrifices, the betrayals…for nothing.

For a minute, the boy lay there and contemplated closing his eyes, giving in to death. Under normal circumstances he could survive this easily, even with extensive blood loss and the beginnings of hypothermia. But now…perhaps if he didn't move, the bleeding would be enough. He was gravely wounded.

But then, somehow, the gears in his head started turning. It was enough to wake him up a little.

He remembered fighting in Vinheim's throne room on Derris-Kharlan. So, then…why was he here, in the middle of a snowy field? What had happened?

Grudgingly, Mithos gave in to his mild curiosity and forced himself into a sitting position. A surge of real pain ran through him, causing him to wince; it was the first time in ages he had actually felt the sensation so acutely.

The snow around him was stained with red. He was bleeding so much he could smell it, the cloying metallic scent hitting him like a wall and making his head spin. His sword laid next to him, its form sunken into the snow.

The field offered him no answers. It was actually more of a plain, stretching quite far into the distance with nothing more for cover than the occasional tree. The mountains surrounding him were jagged peaks, cold and unforgiving. This had to be the Flanoir continent—but how he ended up here was a mystery. He hadn't had the energy to warp at the end of that last fight…and Kratos would have intercepted him had he tried.

"Sir! We found something!"

He felt his body go rigid at the sound of a new voice and approaching footsteps. What was this? Somebody knew he was here?

The seraph turned his head, searching for the source of the noise. He counted six soldiers approaching, all clad in strange dark uniforms, their faces hidden by helmets. He didn't recognize their garb or the weapons they were carrying.

"Perfect." One of the men said, and then paused to stare at him. "Huh. Doesn't look like much. This kid's the source of the mana spike?"

"Don't look at me," the other replied. "I'm just going off the readings I got."

"Hmph. Well, looks like he's about to kick the bucket anyway. He'll make a good test subject if he survives," the commanding soldier said, turning to him. "All right, kid, you're coming with us."

It didn't take much for Mithos to figure out that this was an undesirable scenario. These people had very bizarre mana signatures, but he understood that they were indeed humans. They intended to make him a test subject? He could never get over just how arrogant humans were.

The commanding soldier took a step towards him. Mithos felt his features automatically adopt a frightened expression, and he shrunk away.

"W-wait! Don't come any closer!"

His words only served to make the soldier more confident, as the half elf had known they would. He had encountered many men like this over the course of his lifetime.

"Must've been robbed," the man commented, walking forward. "Come quietly, kid, and we won't have to hurt you. You might even get to live a little longer depending on how useful you are."

"Please," Mithos said, stumbling to his feet. "I—"

The soldier reached out to grab him, and the blond reacted the moment he was within reach. One arm lunged down to scoop up his sword, and in the next instant it was plunged through the man's stomach. His comrades balked, staring in shock for a moment before fumbling for their own weapons.

"Commander!" one of the men yelled. "You—you little brat, you're going to pay for that!"

The five remaining soldiers attacked immediately. Mithos yanked his sword back, the muscles in his arm screaming as he did so. Blood flew. He swung around in time to fend off two of the assailants, managing to dodge just in time as a powerful bolt of lightning flashed past him.

His clothes were soaked with blood and it was beginning to freeze to his skin. The pain was becoming more than just an annoyance; he didn't have time for this, and he absolutely refused to die on anyone's terms but his own.

Mithos' eyes narrowed and he drew on the last reserves of his energy, driving a fist into the ground.

"Death Eater!" he yelled, and a few powerful bursts of light rained down on his enemies. The four that were hit were downed instantly, stunned. He wasted no time in finishing them off.

A remaining soldier shot another blast of lightning at him. Mithos held up a hand and neutralized it with Guardian. He lunged, sword at the ready, and quickly overpowered the man. With that soldier downed, one remained.

The seraph turned to see that the survivor had wisely chosen to run. His eyes narrowed and he debated giving chase, but then a wave of dizziness hit him and he decided that it was hardly important given his current circumstances.

He sheathed his sword and called upon the last of his power to cast a simple First Aid on his leg, which was bleeding more heavily than anything else. It wasn't much, but it helped to clear his head a bit.

Mithos gritted his teeth and set his gaze on the horizon. He would have to find shelter before nightfall if he wanted to rest and regain some of his strength. After that he would be able to better heal his wounds. It would take a while before he would be at full power again, but time didn't necessarily have to be an issue. He was strong enough even at a fraction of his power.

And then…and then what? He didn't know. But he had moved past that initial moment of apathy and he was on his feet and adrenaline was pounding through him, so he decided to find shelter and take things from there.

As long as he focused on nothing more than putting one foot in front of the other, he could keep the reality of the situation from hitting him. For the first time in as long as he could remember, he was truly _alone._

He felt a childish ache, an old longing for the warmth of his sister's embrace, and pushed it aside. He couldn't think about that. He couldn't think about anything right now, because falling apart out here would be infinitely worse than bleeding to death. He just had to keep moving; that was all that mattered…

* * *

Somehow he had found his way to some caverns that seemed to cut through the mountains. They were no less freezing cold than the rest of the tundra outside, but at least here he was protected from the biting winds. Though he had stopped to rest a few times, he was still thoroughly exhausted. He could sense that his body was going to give out on him soon but he didn't feel that this place was safe either.

He gritted his teeth, pushing onward despite the growing pain. He had survived worse. He would not succumb to this…not now.

_Martel…why did this have to happen? _

Monsters were lurking in the caves. He fought them off at first but eventually settled for running and hiding, as conserving his energy was becoming more and more important. His Cruxis Crystal could only take him so far.

He could remember it…how difficult that last battle had been. The fierce determination in Lloyd's eyes. The anger and conviction shared by the entire group, the will to do what must be done…he had had similar feelings once, when life was simpler. But with his sister gone and his friends no longer at his side, he had been at a disadvantage after all.

Even that girl…that damn girl. He hadn't intended for her to amount to such a threat. She had seemed so weak when he first approached her, pleading for help even as she lost consciousness. And yet when the final battle had come, she had been standing there with the rest of them. More than that, she had helped them unravel every last one of his plans.

He felt a surge of hate for her. She came from a world of humans dooming themselves to destruction through their own selfish means—she represented everything he despised about mankind. That was why she had been dispensable, a necessary sacrifice. Her people and their way of thinking were a poison.

But…

Her actions in Palmacosta flashed through his mind, and he remembered the things she had said to him.

No. He didn't have room for doubt right now. He was thinking too much again. Inevitably his mind began to wander to Kratos and Yuan, and he had to shut his thoughts down once more.

There was a light up ahead; the exit to the caves was near. He continued on, forcing out another First Aid despite his lack of mana. Darkness was starting to lurk on the edges of his vision, and he felt groggy. In a way it was funny; when was the last time he had truly slept? He couldn't remember. Even at Altessa's he had remained alert, knowing that Zelos would stab him in the back at the first opportunity.

He left the caves and found himself once again on a snowy plain. He almost gave up right then, but after scanning the surroundings he saw the outline of a building in the distance. Daring to hope, he began to trudge slowly in that direction. Maybe he would be lucky and there wouldn't be any Renegades waiting to finish him off…

* * *

Warmth.

His limbs were tingling and he was _warm…_

"Tess, he's waking up!"

Mithos' eyes shot open.

A black haired human woman was standing over him, smiling. He felt completely vulnerable; his first instinct was to reach for his sword, but he saw that it was leaning against the wall out of reach. Instead he forced himself into a sitting position, watching the woman carefully.

Another woman walked up; she had the same face and hair as the other girl, leading him to assume that they were twins. She offered him a friendly smile as well.

"Well, it's a relief to see you're all right. We thought you might be a goner. Here, move closer to the fire."

It was now that he heard the crackle of flames coming from the nearby hearth. He was sitting on a bed in a cozy room, thick blankets draped around his shoulders. The freezing cold from before seemed almost like a dream now.

"I…" His voice cracked from disuse. He looked from one woman to the other, unsure. "Where…am I?"

The woman on his left spoke. "Oh, I'm sorry! We should explain. This is Xailen Woods Temple, on the outskirts of Kanbalar. I'm Patel and this is my sister Tess—we're the caretakers here."

"Ah…I'm Mithos," he answered absently, running those terms through his head. Xailen Woods? Kanbalar? He wasn't sure he was familiar with either of those locations.

"How were you hurt, Mithos?" Tess asked with obvious concern. "You were bleeding so badly."

"…Bandits," he replied. It was the easiest excuse to give. And considering those shady individuals that had approached him before, it wasn't extremely far-fetched.

"That's terrible," Patel said. "Where are your parents?"

Mithos shook his head.

"I'm so sorry," Patel murmured, biting her lip.

"It's okay," he said quietly, reaching up to brush a lock of hair behind his ear. He paused to observe their reactions as he did so, preparing himself.

"We'll escort you to Kanbalar," Tess told him, not even taking note of his action. She still had the same concern in her eyes. "You need to see a doctor for your injuries. We did as well as we could, but we don't know any healing artes."

"We should get an audience with King Gaius!" Patel exclaimed, standing up. "He'll do something about this, I know he will. Remember? Last time somebody talked to him about the bandits prowling the road outside the temple, he sent in soldiers to guard us while he cleared them out himself!"

"W-we can't go to the king for every single problem…" Tess scolded. Then she seemed to think for a moment, and finally nodded. "But this means our original problem isn't completely solved, doesn't it? I bet that'll get his attention. His Highness doesn't leave things half finished."

Patel nodded. "Don't worry, Mithos. We'll make sure you get some help."

"Th…Thank you," the boy answered, feeling his insides freeze with shock. It was enough that they hadn't reacted to his slightly pointed ears, other than glancing at them for a short moment. Now they were talking of _helping _him? Getting help from a _king, _no less?

Not to mention he had never heard of this king, either…the only king he knew of was in Tethe'alla, and somehow he doubted the united world would have appointed a new leader so quickly.

He was getting a strange feeling about this. But he couldn't jump to conclusions. He had to test this out.

"But…" He let out a breath. "I—I don't want to be a burden. I know how to defend myself. Could you just tell me how to get to Flanoir? I have relatives there."

Tess tilted her head, her brow furrowing. "Flanoir…I don't think I've heard of it. Is it in Auj Oule?"

Auj Oule? What was Auj Oule? The strange feeling intensified. Suddenly the room seemed suffocating.

He abruptly stood up. "I'm sorry. I need to think."

"Hey, wait! You're still hurt!"

He ignored the call of Patel behind him, instead grabbing his sword and pushing his way through the door. It seemed impossible, but his legs hurt even worse now. There was an underlying ache that throbbed through his whole body with every step. It was the first time in many years that he had felt so _mortal._

This place was indeed a temple. He walked down stone steps, observing high cathedral ceilings, pillars, and stained glass windows. It was chillier out here, but the cooler air helped him breathe a little easier.

He moved through the temple's large doors and stepped outside, into the snow once more. Xailen Woods, Kanbalar, Gaius, Auj Oule…what did it mean? How could they not know of Flanoir? This climate was clearly under heavy influence from Celsius; how could they be anywhere but the Flanoir continent? Unless…

"You shouldn't be out here," Tess called, finally catching up to him. "Don't scare us like that. You still need rest."

"Yeah, I know the temple's a little musty, but it's not that bad," Patel told him. "Please come back inside. We'll find your relatives after you see a doctor."

Mithos felt a surge of frustration at his own ignorance to the situation. He didn't want to accept hospitality from these humans, but at the same time, what else could he do? He didn't even know where he was.

"There he is!"

A new voice caused his entire body to tense. He looked up and saw more of those soldiers from earlier—this group was twice the size of the last one, and they were headed straight for him.

"What?" Tess froze up next to him.

"Who are those people? Those aren't the bandits, are they?" Patel murmured.

It was too late to run. Mithos felt his lips set in a grim line.

"Go inside," he told the women, drawing his sword. "You'll only get in the way."

"But Mithos—" Tess started.

He abruptly revealed his wings, the appendages bursting from his back in a flurry of iridescent feathers. The women beside him gasped. He turned to stare them down.

"Go," he said simply.

They didn't protest after that, immediately turning to run back inside the temple. Typical human behavior. Perhaps they were somehow ignorant of half elves, but the moment they encountered something they couldn't understand, they were quick to run away. Fear always led to violence; he had just ensured that he would have to leave this place immediately.

"Incredible," one of the soldiers remarked. They had slowed their approach as they drew closer, shocked. "You weren't kidding, Hal."

"Don't underestimate him." Mithos realized Hal was the soldier he had allowed to live earlier. "He uses spirit artes I've never seen before. This freak must have some kind of mutant mana lobe."

"You think he's a spirit, like that Maxwell girl?"

"What does it matter? We'll take him in as planned. Lord Gilland will be pleased," another soldier said.

"All right, kid, listen up," the leader said. "This is your last chance. If you resist, then you're going to get hurt."

"Then fight me," Mithos replied in a flat tone, readying his blade. "I'd prefer to rid the world of your stink."

"So be it," he growled. "Men, attack! Use force and take him alive!"

Six soldiers carrying the same strange weapons from before began to circle him, their weapons powering up. Others ran at him immediately. He raised his sword.

"Ray!" He yelled, drawing upon some of his recovered strength. Beams of light crashed down on the men, destroying their formation.

"Demon Fang! Fierce Demon Fang!" He cut down three men at once. Adrenaline flowed through him, his heart pounding. He usually relied on angelic magic; it felt almost nostalgic to go back to his old fighting style.

He swung his sword out in a deadly arc, and then feinted to the right before thrusting his blade out in a maneuver Kratos had taught him long ago. Two more men fell.

Mithos swung around to fend off the soldiers aiming for his blind spot. He released a Fireball into their faces, throwing them backwards. More men ran to replace them. He was surrounded on all sides, and the attackers kept coming. This was bad; he hadn't recovered enough and somehow these humans had found a way to harness magic.

He moved out of the way of an attack, thrusting his blade into the stomach of a soldier. Just wrenching it out took an amount of energy he just didn't have. He felt himself growing sloppy with exhaustion. Even now, he still hadn't had enough time to really _rest._

Then it came. Suddenly he was hit with a powerful shock and he fell to the ground, realizing belatedly that it must have been a lightning spell. He cursed himself for succumbing to such a weak group. If only he were at full power…!

Men approached him. He forced himself out of his paralysis and gripped the ankle of one of the soldiers, squeezing hard until he felt the bone break. The man screamed and fell.

"How the hell is he still moving?!" the leader snarled. "Dammit! Use it!"

"Yes, sir!"

One of the men aimed another strange device at him. It began to glow with an odd purple light—and then he felt his own body begin to glow as well.

_Mana,_ he thought with shock. _My mana is being sapped. How can this be?!_

"L-look at these readings, sir! This is incredible!" The man gawked.

"Don't stop now, idiot! Until he loses consciousness!" The leader snapped.

His energy was being drained at a rate faster than he could fathom. The world was growing dark. This was a worse situation than he ever could have believed—that device was beginning to draw on his Cruxis Crystal! If they kept up, it might just shatter—there would be no coming back from that. He would die without a doubt.

There was no other option. He had to do something or give in to death. He began to mutter an incantation under his breath.

"…cast your purifying light upon these corrupt souls…"

"What is he saying?"

Mithos' eyes snapped wide open. _"Judgment!"_

He felt his body grow even weaker than before, but the spell had the desired effect. The clouds overhead darkened and suddenly impossibly bright beams of light were raining down, crashing into the snow and sending debris flying. The men dropped their weapons and scattered, overwhelmed by the power of the attack. It was in the chaos that Mithos forced himself to his feet and picked up his sword.

The light of Judgment continued to rain down around him as he trotted down the road outside the temple, leaving everything behind.

* * *

Hours passed.

He was in Kanbalar, and it was a place he'd never seen before in his life. He knew now that there was no way he could possibly be in Sylvarant or Tethe'alla. This was something entirely different.

It was a snowy city like Flanoir, but the culture was new to him. The city was built on a mountainside, surrounded by high stone walls. Each part of the city seemed to be connected with a transportation system of hanging cars. Colored banners hung from the buildings, though he was unsure of their significance. The architecture was strange. The people dressed oddly.

…And yet, he was the odd one out. His clothes were made for a warmer climate and his shoulders were freezing. He was covered in bandages and blood, and people were staring. It wouldn't be long before someone started to ask questions.

All he wanted was for people to leave him alone. He wanted to rest…he was so tired, so tired.

Mithos moved into an alley. The alleyway seemed more sheltered from those scrutinizing gazes; he hated being stared at, regardless of the reason. He was too set in his old ways—whenever he used to travel alone with Martel, they had to hide in big cities like this. They would always move on when people started staring.

Now…now he was away from people. But he was still cold, and he needed shelter. Where could he go? Even if this was a place he was familiar with, he still didn't have any money on him. He couldn't stay at an inn. What, then? If he didn't do something soon, he was going to collapse.

There was a castle looming on the horizon, overlooking the city. He had seen the city soldiers—they wore armor that was nothing like that of the soldiers he had fought. If he went closer to the castle, maybe that would at least be safer…or perhaps they would throw him in prison for intruding. But even then, a prison cell would mean shelter and medical treatment, wouldn't it?

Mithos smiled grimly; how far he had fallen. Was he honestly considering this right now?

He had no choice. Even now, he was unconsciously making his way toward the castle. There was really nothing more he could do.

"Well, that's far enough, kid."

The boy drew to a halt, looking up to meet the gaze of a tall brown haired man. The man was smiling lazily, pointing an unfamiliar weapon at his face.

"Gotta say, though, you're quite the trooper. Can't believe you're still on your feet," the man remarked, shaking his head. "Well, anyway. You know the drill. Just be warned, I'm tougher than those grunts you faced earlier. If you try to fight, you'll be seriously hurting."

"I doubt it," Mithos replied, glaring. He didn't feel nearly as confident as he sounded, and he hated it. He wanted to wipe the cocky smirk off that human's face.

The man shrugged. "That's how you wanna be? Man, you sure are a glutton for punishment. Well, don't say I didn't warn you. Nothing personal, all right?"

He pulled a large blade out of its sheath, falling into a fighting stance. Mithos mirrored with a stance of his own, though his arms were growing too weak to hold his blade up. That Judgment spell had taken a lot out of him.

Even as they faced each other, several more of those soldiers showed up behind him and Mithos understood that this really might be the end of the road. He couldn't take on all of them. This was his limit.

The man seemed about to lunge, but at the last second his eyes narrowed and he grimaced.

"…What?" He muttered. "Well, crap."

Then, out of nowhere, he ducked into a side alley and melted into the shadows. The soldiers that had come to back him up looked at each other in confusion.

"Should've known," one of them growled. "He always pulls a fast one at the worst possible moment. Fine, we'll have to do this job ourselves!"

There was no time to wonder what had happened to the brown haired man. Mithos braced himself, trying hard to figure out how he could evade his attackers. They ran at him, and there was no more time.

Suddenly, blood flew. The entire line of men was knocked back. Several fell at once, bleeding to death.

"That's enough," a deep voice uttered from behind him. "Harming my people is a crime punishable by death. I have no qualms administering that punishment myself."

Three soldiers remained standing. They all visibly balked, nearly dropping their weapons. "Gaius," Mithos heard one of them whisper.

The new voice belonged to a tall raven-haired man clad in impressive shades of red and black. The man walked slowly forward to stand beside Mithos; in his hands was a long katana. He raised the blade and fell into a battle stance. So this was King Gaius.

"Submit and I may show mercy," the man warned. "Who are you and what are your intentions?"

The soldiers looked at each other and had some sort of exchange. They seemed to decide on something; eventually they slowly, shakily raised their weapons. What foolishness...if they were so terrified, then why didn't they give in? Humans and their pride.

"So be it," Gaius said.

The three ran at him, and it was over in an instant. In a flash, all of the soldiers had fallen and Gaius was sheathing his sword. Mithos tried not to acknowledge the relief he felt. He had been saved by a human once more.

The king turned to him. Mithos noticed that he possessed piercing red eyes that stood out against his dark hair and tanned skin.

"You are injured."

"Why did you help me?" the boy asked before he could stop himself. He knew it might seem like an irrational question—if this man had no reason to discriminate, then he probably thought he was just helping some child. But he was unused to people rushing to his aid. He didn't know how to react.

"My people are my responsibility," the man replied.

"I'm not from here," Mithos snapped. He didn't want to accept this man's help. He didn't want to be lumped in with "his people," the humans he hated so much.

Gaius' expression didn't change in the slightest. "It changes nothing. My duty remains the same. The strong must protect the weak."

That remark caused Mithos' fists to clench. How _dare—_

"You disagree?" Gaius caught on immediately. "If you were strong, you would not have needed protecting."

"Don't insult me, you arrogant—!" Mithos lashed out, clashing swords with the man. The king threw him back easily and he hit the wall, sliding to the ground with a grimace.

"Perhaps you were strong once," Gaius mused, "but you failed in your duty. If that is the case, then I will no longer allow you to roam astray. Stand up, boy."

It was too late. That last hit had knocked the wind out of him, and he was finished. He felt consciousness leaving him.

The last thing he saw before blacking out was the image of those indomitable crimson eyes…

* * *

**A/N: Oh yes, MITHOS AND GAIUS. I am going to have so much fun with this.**

**Where's Brit at? Well, this is just after the final battle, so she's still with the gang back in Aselia. Rest assured we'll be hearing from her soon, though. For now we get to enjoy watching Mithos and his entertaining adventures. B-D Oh, chucked into another world, Mithos? Payback's a bitch!**

**As always, the events referred to here don't necessarily reflect the actual ending of NR. I did drop a vague hint or two as to some things that I actually have planned, though nothing is really set in stone.**

**Review review revieeeewwww :D**

**Next time: The strong-willed king of Auj Oule. True strength. Losing the path and finding it again.**

**_"Is it a sin to be weak hearted? Not everyone can be strong. Not everyone can stand being despised..."_  
**


	2. Will of the King

**A/N: Oh god. Okay...yeah, there's more of this already. XD I really wanted to get Mithos' initial parts down. Now I think I'll take a break and actually write NR for a change, hnng. **

**Anyway, this one's not exactly long, but I thiiiink this might be the last of Mithos for now? So it seemed like a good point to end it. B-D**

**Enjoy!**

* * *

He awoke once more to a feeling of warmth, and for a moment he almost thought he was back in the temple.

As it turned out, he wasn't. He was lying in a bed in an extravagant looking room, sparsely furnished but possessing marble floors decorated in ornate gold and jade patterns. A large tapestry depicting a crimson dragon was hung against one wall. He had never seen décor like this before—it almost reminded him of Mizuho in his early days, when the ancient culture had been in its prime.

For a while he lay there, contemplating his situation and running his memories through his head. Everything felt a lot clearer to him now; someone had healed him, and the pain from his wounds was dulled.

Eventually a doctor came in and spoke to him for a few minutes, informing him of the situation. He had been asleep for three days, which was a shock for him—he must have truly needed it if his angelic abilities had failed him to that extent. He was brought a meal, which he ate with relish, realizing that he was absolutely famished. Then the doctor said he was going to inform King Gaius that his patient was awake—apparently Mithos was expected to meet with the king the moment he was able.

Now the boy sat in bed, staring at his empty plate after the doctor left. Gaius, hmm…the man that had effectively saved his life. A typical royalty figure...self-important and overbearing. To call _him _weak! At full strength, he could have _crushed_ that fool, and taken pleasure doing so.

His fists clenched. But all the same, there was something about that resolute look in the king's eyes…

_Perhaps you were strong once, but you failed in your duty. If that is the case, then I will no longer allow you to roam astray. _

What business was that of his? Why would a king bother to say something like that?

_The strong must protect the weak._

Stupid human. Anyone in a position of power would _always _step on the weak to elevate themselves higher, couldn't he see that?

_You failed in your duty._

Snarling, Mithos threw his plate across the room. It hit the wall and shattered into hundreds of pieces.

_Mithos, please. Listen to me. What you have done...is wrong._

"I failed?" He hissed, clutching at his head. "Martel…"

He had had the power to end things, to create a perfect world—why hadn't she seen that? Why had she rejected him and where had he gone wrong?! Why was he here now, in an unfamiliar world and at the mercy of humans? _Why?!_

Running footsteps. People were coming to investigate the noise he'd made. He gritted his teeth, his gaze moving to the windows. He couldn't stay here. He needed to get away from all of this.

The window shattered easily when he sent a Wind Blade at it. He stepped up on to the sill, staring down at the city, which seemed impossibly far down.

Now that he had had enough rest, calling forth his wings was a simple thing. He jumped out of the window and took to the skies above Kanbalar, leaving the castle and Gaius behind.

* * *

This world was called Rieze Maxia and it was far, far away from his old home. He had to do some exploring of his own to find this out for certain, but now he was positive. He had been carried here by some means beyond his understanding.

Was this some kind of punishment? If so, who was responsible?

He stood on a cliff overlooking a battlefield. Several weeks had passed and he had regained some of his former strength, enough to change into his adult form and keep people from recognizing him. He had been sloppy before—he wouldn't make the same mistakes twice. He had changed from his Cruxis clothes into a hooded deep green trench coat, dark pants, and black knee high boots. A different sword was strapped to his waist. The only thing that remained the same was his long golden hair—wearing it short would expose his ears, and although this world lacked half-elves, he couldn't shake his old ways.

Cruxis had researched worlds beyond his own, but only to a certain extent. He had focused most of his efforts on Earth and its potential to serve his purpose. And then, one year ago…he had taken that girl.

Mithos closed his eyes. In an unfamiliar world, pursued by strange soldiers…he could see the parallel. Maybe he deserved this. His own sister might say he did.

He still wasn't sure what those men wanted with him, but he wasn't going to seek them out just yet. He would wait until he recovered his full strength and then he would find answers. Unfortunately, recovering his lost mana was proving to be much more difficult than he'd originally thought. The power of his own Cruxis Crystal had been sapped—he had never seen anything like it before, and he couldn't simply give it his own mana without succumbing to angelic sickness. He would have to find the devices those men were using and destroy them.

A gust of wind blew, carrying the sounds of battle to him. He returned his focus to the conflict, where he saw Gaius and four other fighters fending off soldiers. The others had to be Gaius' Chimeriad, the elite warriors Mithos had heard so much about during his time in Kanbalar.

The two nations of the world were Rashugal and Auj Oule. They were not on overly friendly terms, and hostilities broke out often, but for the most part natural barriers prevented them from going into all-out war. The battle here was a territorial dispute on the surface, but there seemed to be more at play. Mithos had a feeling Gaius sensed that as well; otherwise the king would not be here. He had business in Xian Du, not on this island south of Lakutam Seahaven.

Mithos had learned that this island served as a trading post and a rest stop for ships on their way to and from Leronde, which was further south. Both Rashugal and Auj Oule occupied territory here. It seemed Rashugal troops were the instigators; he was surprised they hadn't retreated the moment Gaius showed his face.

He scanned the battlefield, watching the conflict. It was clear that the Chimeriad and their king would be the victors.

Ever since their initial encounter, Mithos had been watching Gaius. It wasn't an especially difficult thing to do; the king was extremely active, preferring to be on the front lines rather than in his castle.

Even now, he was unable to shake Gaius' words. Something about the king had struck a chord with him. Nobody had left this much of an impression on him since he had met Lloyd and the others. Gaius was not like other humans.

Gaius had called him weak and cast the seed of doubt in his mind. In the end, Mithos felt oddly compelled to prove him wrong, to find some flaw in the king's leadership. And then there was the fact that Gaius _had _saved his life…

He had no purpose, no plan of action, nowhere else to go. So he remained in the shadows and observed.

…There.

Suddenly Mithos' gaze shifted. Amidst the red armor of Rashugal troops, he saw something else—that person was simply wearing a red cloak over black armor. The abnormality caught his attention, and he watched the person make their way through the mayhem with a sense of purpose.

Ah. There was a heavily guarded Auj Oule facility on the eastern point of this island—Mithos had seen it on his way here. No doubt security would be slack in these circumstances. Had any of the king's men taken note of this?

His eyes narrowed; no. They hadn't seen it. He had only noticed because of his ideal vantage point.

Before he understood what he was doing, he was making his way off the side of the cliff, moving in a path to intercept the suspicious individual.

He was faster by far—he ambushed the other troop, grabbing him by the hood of his cloak and yanking him backwards. The soldier choked a bit, and then quickly undid the fastenings on the cloak in an effort to get away. The red material fell away…to reveal the uniform of the men that had been hunting him.

Mithos felt his entire body tense. He hadn't anticipated finding one of these people alone. What was this about and why were they here of all places?

The soldier whipped around and pointed one of those strange magic-firing devices at him, but Mithos was faster once again. He threw up a Guardian to block the burst of flames that was sent at him, and then caught the man with a Fierce Demon Fang that forced him to drop the weapon.

"Wh-Who the hell are you?!" The soldier growled.

"I should be asking you the same thing," Mithos replied icily. He raised his free hand and sent out a burst of mana; the sheer pressure of it sent the soldier flying into the nearest tree. The seraph walked slowly up to the man, pressing the tip of his blade to the underside of the soldier's chin.

"Well?" Mithos prodded.

"Dammit…" came the reply. He saw the soldier glance at the weapon he dropped.

The seraph smiled and sent a burst of angelic magic at it, and the device shattered.

"What…" The man stared at him in shock. "What are you?"

Mithos showed the soldier the palm of his hand, where a ball of similar light was gathered. "Give me a reason not to do the same to you."

"Wait!" the soldier protested. "I—I'll tell you what you want to know! Please, I don't want to die! I'm working for an organization called—"

There was a sudden boom, and the man's throat began to spout blood out of a tiny hole that had appeared in his jugular. The more he tried to speak, the more he choked. He clutched at the wound, his eyes rolling back in his head as he slumped over, bleeding to death.

The seraph swung around to find the source of the attack, scanning the forest around him with narrowed eyes. Who was it? He would find them and _get his answers, _dammit.

"Don't bother," a new voice caught his attention, and he looked over to see a scantily clad blonde woman making her way towards him. "They're long gone."

Presa, the fang of the Chimeriad. He had done his research.

Mithos frowned, turning his gaze back to the soldier that had been killed. A shame…he had been so close. But apparently this organization kept their secrets well. He was sure the assassin must have been one of this man's comrades.

"Presa." Another voice, this time male. A man clothed in all black walked into the clearing—Wingul.

"Looks like someone beat us to it," Presa replied, running a hand through her hair.

"Indeed." The massive form of Jiao was hard to miss as he joined them. "Agria has begun pursuit of the others."

Gaius was the last to walk up. His gaze fell first on Mithos, and the seraph felt himself tense a little. It was one thing to observe from afar—but he hadn't planned for a direct interaction with the king so soon. Why did the look in those eyes make him feel so pinned? It was enough to make one of Kratos' fiercest glares look pathetic. Something about Gaius' stare made him feel like his entire soul was laid bare to be judged. But that was ridiculous—of course this human _couldn't _know he was meeting the same boy that had been at death's door weeks ago.

After a moment the king's gaze shifted to the body of the soldier lying at Mithos' feet.

"That uniform," he mused. "I've seen it before."

"They were aiming for the research facility," Wingul stated quietly. "The battle was a diversion, though it seems these Rashugal troops were played for fools. The true goal was data theft."

"I see," Jiao said, crossing his arms. "So that's why you had security at the facility increased so suddenly."

"Well, nothing gets past you, does it?" Presa said with a knowing smirk, shaking her head.

"There is one variable I didn't account for," Wingul replied. His gaze fell on Mithos, who stared flatly back.

"Jiao, Presa, Wingul. Find Agria and report to the seahaven. I will follow shortly."

The three frowned at their king, but nodded and began to leave without protest. It wasn't long before the clearing was empty save for Mithos and Gaius. The silence stretched on for what seemed like an impossibly long time as the two stared each other down. Finally, the king spoke.

"Have you found the answer you seek?"

Mithos was taken aback. He had expected an interrogation. "…What?"

"For weeks, you have been my shadow. You are no assassin. What is it that you desire?"

The seraph tried hard to hide his shock. Gaius _knew? _This _human _had sensed his presence, even when he had kept his distance and taken full advantage of his heightened senses?

It was difficult to find words. He didn't want to admit aloud that his first meeting with the king had weighed so heavily on his mind…not to mention he wasn't about to tell the king about his Cruxis Crystal and his ability to shift between forms.

"…I don't know," Mithos replied quietly, and it was the truth. He didn't know what to say—anything he came up with seemed silly. He realized that for the first time in ages he felt like a fool, standing here conflicted with his thoughts, unsure of what he wanted, completely lost in an unfamiliar world. He resented that Gaius exuded purpose and determination while he was simply putting on a strong front.

"I know not how you are associated with these men," the king said, gesturing towards the dead soldier. "But it is clear you lack conviction. One who repeatedly falters is doomed to failure."

This caused Mithos to tense, his anger and bitterness flaring up. He hated that even now, Gaius could speak with complete certainty, as if the man knew him. Who was this man to speak of conviction? _Four thousand years, _he had stood by his ideals.

"Do not presume to know me," the seraph seethed, unable to hold back.

"Prove me wrong," the king said in a flat tone. His face was impassive, but there was a clear challenge in his eyes.

The seraph cursed himself, because he knew he was making a mistake even as he was readying his sword. It was stupid to rush into battle in such an emotional state, not to mention he had wanted to keep a low profile in this form. Now he was going to be recognized no matter which form he took.

If not for his heightened senses and superior reaction time, Gaius' initial attack would have caught him off guard. The king moved extremely fast, drawing his sword and lashing out in one fluid movement. Mithos threw up his own sword and was actually pushed back by the force of the strike, his boots digging trenches in the dirt.

But he would not let himself be forced on the defensive. He twisted away and immediately swung around to make contact once more, a shower of sparks cascading from the blades. For a minute or so he lost himself in the dance of attacks and parries, constantly searching for a weakness in Gaius' defense. The man's form was flawless.

It was difficult to adjust to battle while restricting himself so much. His angelic artes were best kept a secret in this form, lest he draw too much attention to himself. The temptation to reveal his wings and let loose was almost too much, but he instead focused his anger into his strikes.

"Heavy Tiger Blade!" Mithos' sword hit Gaius' on the downward arc and the king blocked, moving smoothly into an arte of his own.

"Swallow Fury!"

It was an impressive series of strikes for one without an Exsphere, and Mithos was forced to dodge each one. His heart pounded and he remembered with painful clarity the feeling of Lloyd's sword being thrust through his thigh. Contrary to what he'd begun to believe after several millennia, he was far from invincible. Just a single month in this world, and he'd never felt so mortal.

Gaius gave him no time to rest. He raised his katana, which was glowing red with mana.

"Incineration Wave!"

Mithos saw the blast coming; he raised a hand and used Guardian, holding off the attack while muttering an incantation under his breath. The moment Gaius' arte ended, he unleashed Thunder Arrow, and a massive bolt of lightning rained down on the king.

Gaius had thrown up his own Guardian; Mithos moved to his blind spot while the lightning struck, lunging the moment the king's shield was down. The raven haired man swung around at the very last second and their blades glanced off of each other, forcing each to take a step back.

Suddenly Mithos had his blade at Gaius' throat. Adrenaline still rushed through his veins; he almost didn't feel the sharp point digging into the skin of his own neck. The battle was a stalemate. Both combatants stood locked in position, glaring each other down.

_Impossible._

He was the former leader of Cruxis, hero of the Kharlan War, one of the Four Seraphim. How could this man possibly provide a challenge for him, even in his weakened state?

The king watched him for a moment before wordlessly pulling back his blade, sheathing it. Mithos numbly mimicked the action. The battle was over.

"Your name," his opponent prompted.

Mithos' eyes narrowed slightly. He grasped for a name, and what came forth was a memory of old friends. "…Sage."

Gaius inclined his head a bit, staring the seraph down. He seemed to understand that this was likely nothing more than an alias, but he didn't question it.

"You have strength," he remarked slowly. "But it is wasted without purpose."

He seemed about to continue, so Mithos frowned and offered no response.

"If you intend to follow me, then do so in the open," the king commanded. "Serve as a member of the Chimeriad and wander astray no longer."

The bold statement blindsided Mithos. _Serve? _The king was _recruiting_ him?

If Gaius noticed Mithos' shock, he didn't show it. He simply crossed his arms, allowing the silence to stretch on for a few moments.

"…This is unexpected," the seraph managed to say. Part of him wanted to sneer and decline in the most derisive fashion possible, and yet something in the king's eyes made him hold his tongue.

"Consider my proposal," Gaius replied, turning away. "I will await your answer in Kanbalar."

With that, he moved on and vanished into the shadows between the trees. Mithos stared after him until his the sound of his footsteps faded completely. He closed his eyes, thinking.

To join the king, to serve a human…the very idea was absurd.

But someone had just offered him a place in this world, a position his cursed blood never would have allowed him to have on Aselia. Something about the idea was compelling.

Mithos' resolve hardened. Fine. He would continue to watch the king, if only to prove a point to himself. Gaius was human and flawed—he would slip up sooner or later.

….And when he did, Mithos would kill him. After all, an unworthy ruler deserved to be dethroned.

It would at least give him something to focus on while he wasn't hunting down those strange soldiers.

* * *

**A/N: Uh, sorry if this chapter was crap? I don't even know. Trying to walk in Mithos' shoes is actually one big headache. Gaius is very fun, though. 8D**

**Anyway, revieeeeew~**

**Next time: Our heroine makes her debut! Also, Alvin!**


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